Kaiserreich: Trouble around the corner
by KanisRussell
Summary: Kaiserreich timeline: The German empire won the Weltkrieg, but now the future seems unstable at best. Follow 5 different characters as they find themselves in the middle of the greatest conflicts in history.
1. The characters introduction

**Hey pals.**

 **So, for a little while now, I have wanted to write a story set in the Kaiserreich's timeline (Kaiserreich being a mod for Hearts of Iron). I wanted it to follow the story of several different characters as they react to events that happen in the Kaiserreich timeline. I hope you all like it and do feel free to leave reviews.**

 **The Kaiserreich universe belongs to the mod creators and not me. I only take credit for the original characters I have written for the story.**

 **-KanisRussell**

 **The main characters of the story:**

 **Emil Denziger**

 **Age: 34**

 **Born: 27/04/1901**

 **Place of Birth: Kiel, German Kaiser Reich**

Emil was born into a working class family in Kiel. His father worked at the docks in Kiel, his mother worked at the telephone company. He mostly had a happy childhood, but his father died during the Weltkreig on the western front in 1914. His mother had a hard time keeping Emil and his two brothers feed with a roof over their heads after the death of their father.

Emil joined the Kaiserliche marine once he turned 18 to escape the life of poverty and petty crime. He was first posted on the SMS Roon as a simple seaman. He saw action in the latter half of 1919, when the SMS Roon attacked British ships guarding the evacuation of British troops back to the home isles.

By the end of the war, Emil had become a chief petty officer of the same ship. His remarkable ability to keep calm once shit hit the fan was quickly noted. With the signing of peace with honor in 1921, Emil had turned 20 and was quite happy with his job in the Navy.

Emil was thrown between different ships during the 1920's and was posted all over the Kaiser Reich, be it Mittel Afrika, East Asia or on Malta. During a trip to eastern Prussia in 1928, he met his future wife Monika while on shore leave. One and a half year later they were married and expecting their first child. Emil's daughter was born on January the 4th 1930, a beautiful child whom they named Elisa.

In 1934 he was promoted to captain of the Kaiser Reich's newest vessel. The SMS Kronprinz Wilhelm Friedrich, a newly built battle cruiser. It took its name from the old battleship of the same name. In a short two years, the vessel and her captain have already made a name for themselves, mostly due to their pirate hunting and peace keeping missions in the colonies.

As of 1st of January 1936, Emil and Monika are expecting their second child and Emil is still captain in the Kaiserliche Marine.

Emil is a handsome man. He is a little over 6'1 feet tall with blonde hair. He has blue eyes; only downside is a scar he received during the Weltkrieg. It runs along his left cheek and stops at the edge of his chin.

Emil is a caring person; he will do everything to make sure his family doesn't live in poverty. He has deep respect for the Kaiser and his fatherland and is willing to serve it without question.

 **Dimitri Yanovich**

 **Age: 28**

 **Born: 13/05/1908**

 **Place of birth: Tsaritsyn, Russian empire.**

Dimitri was born to a wealthy upper middle class family in Tsaritsyn. His family had German roots, but had settled in the Russian empire during the 18th century. During the welt Krieg, his family wasn't drafted due to their status, but following the October revolution in Russia, his family was targeted because of their wealth and status. They managed to escape from Tsaritsyn and took refuge in the camps of the white army.

Following white victory in Russia, his family returned home to Tsaritsyn. Russia however, was in ruins. The long civil war had done nothing to stabilize things in Russia after the Weltkrieg.

With a new government in place, Russia was slowly beginning to rebuild, but wounds from the past kept them from going fast. Germany had reduced Russia to a secondary power and so the country grew bitter. The soviet threat kept people apart and the president was by no means popular, but he held the country together.

Dimitri was sent to off to the military as soon as he came of age. He ended up in the Hussar corps and was generally happy with it.

As of January the 1st, Dimitri is a lieutenant in the hussar corps. He is not married and don't have any children.

Dimitri is a charismatic man with great ambitions for his future. Dimitri hates the soviets with all his hearts, but he doesn't have any love for either the president or Germany. Dimitri is just about 6'5 feet tall with rough features, yet still handsome. Sporting brown hair with blue/greenish eyes. He has grown a full beard, but he keeps it trimmed.

 **George K. Lane**

 **Age: 25**

 **Born: 25/08/1910**

 **Place of birth: Hamilton, Dominion of Canada.**

George never knew his parents. He spent the first part of his life in the orphanage of Hamilton in Canada. To him it was clear that he was an unwanted child. He ran away from the orphanage at age 13 and lived on the streets. George had turned to petty crime to keep himself alive.

Britain had lost the Weltkrieg and was thrown into syndicalist revolution in 1925. The royal family fled to Canada to avoid the chaos of the home isles. The royal navy had escorted them, but couldn't keep order in their colonies and soon most of them were grabbed by other European powers. France too was lost to the red scum.

George, much like Emil, joined the armed forces to escape the life he lived. He joined the royal air force to keep the remaining part of the empire safe. George too showed promise at his entry into the air force and rose pretty quickly up the ranks of the air force.

George is an angry man, angry at being left behind from his parents and angry at the reds for destroying a great empire. Standing at about 5'9 feet tall and with red hair he is a sight for himself. He has green eyes and a scar over his right eye, a nice reminder of a street fight he had when he was younger.

 **Robert C. Davis**

 **Age: 30**

 **Born: 14/12/1905**

 **Place of birth: San Francisco, United States of America.**

Robert lived a quiet live in San Francisco with his loving parents. Without American involvement in the Weltkrieg, things in USA stayed quiet. He grew up with safe surroundings and a sweet taste of the American dream.

Robert grew up to become a journalist working for the independent news office called "San Francisco weekly". He mostly covered small events happening in California, but later moved on to cover war stories from around the world, mostly in Africa and Asia.

America is not at the center of the world anymore, and the stability within the country is by no means stable. The country is split and even in the home of the free, syndicalism is growing in power in the northeast, in the southern states there is a call for a restoration of order.

Many Americans fear a second civil war is right around the corner and so people are already picking sides.

Robert is a man only 5'6 feet tall with black hair. He wears glasses and has brown eyes. Robert too is a man of great ambitions, hoping one day to become a famous journalist, but he too is scared of the future of the once great nation of the United States.

 **Pierre Rapace**

 **Age: 44**

 **Born: 5/6 1891**

 **Place of birth: Bordeaux, French republic.**

Pierre was born to simple farmers outside the city of Bordeaux in France, he spent most of childhood helping out his father in the field. Work was hard and the pay was little. With French involvement in the weltkrieg, Pierre was drafted and served on the front against Germany. There he saw many of his close friends die in the horrors of trench warfare. He was promoted to the rank of sergeant by 1918, but the fall of France was all too obvious to him.

With France capitulated, they had lost yet another war to Germany. Pierre grew bitter and turned to syndicalism. In the red army of France, he was promoted to a major. His modest background served well in propaganda posters around the commune of France.

France fell to syndicalism in November of 1919 after a short, but bloody civil war. Pierre had been at the front of the war.

Pierre is there a prime example of what a syndicalist should be. He is bitter at the enemy and hates the liberal economy France had before. He is ready to bring the revolution to Germany, and then to the rest of the world.

Pierre is 6 feet tall with black hair and brown eyes. He sports a big moustache. He is married and has three children, but hardly spends any time with them. He is busy organizing the army and helping out with the unions.

4


	2. Chapter 1: One dead president

**16/1 1936**

 **Kiel**

Emil was awoken by the seagulls flying around outside his window. He lived close to the naval dock, where most of the reserve Schlachtswadron was docked. From his apartment, he could see the some of the carriers of the Kaiserliche marine.

Emil arose from his bed, but not before kissing his wife. He went out to the kitchen to make himself some coffee, but was interrupted by his 6 year old daughter, whom must have been awaken by Emil as he had gotten out of bed.

It was early in the morning, Emil looked at the clock, it was 6:12 am in the morning. The girl wouldn't be in school before 8 am.

"What are you doing up so early?" Emil asked with a smile as he picked up the girl. She wasn't a baby anymore that much was obvious.

"I couldn't sleep." She answered, she sounded sad.

"What is wrong?" Emil asked a bit worried.

"Dad, I don't want to go to school." She replied with even more sadness in her otherwise cute voice.

"Why not?" He asked.

"I can't read, but Sophie can." Was her answer, she then looked down in floor in shame.

Emil chuckled a bit at her response. His 6 year old daughter was ashamed that she couldn't read.

"Hey, look at me" He said.

She slowly shifted her attention from the floor to his eyes.

"The whole idea of school is for you to learn how to read, and many other things. Don't worry, it will come." He said with a smile.

His daughter's facial expression changed in a second. She was no longer sad, but determined.

"Thank you" She said with a smile that could only be classified as overjoyed.

"No need to thank me, now go get a little more sleep." Emil replied as he put his daughter down.

Elisa ran back into her room and jumped in her bed. Emil simply chuckled; he found the situation quite funny.

Emil went back to making some coffee. It was still dark outside; it had been a cold winter. Snow covered the streets of Kiel, but such was the scene around much of Europe. Emil looked out the window and saw a scene that amused him; a man attempted to cycle through the snow, but was quite unsuccessful. Emil drank his coffee and spent a few more minutes looking out the window.

Before he realized it, the clock had turned 6:39 am. He was to report at the docks by 7 am. Emil hurried to get dressed in his captain uniform. The finishing touch was the adjustment of the visor cap, so it sat perfectly.

Emil kissed his wife goodbye and walked out the front door. He walked through the snow, his winter coat kept him warm. The streets lamps were the only light source in the streets, and they weren't all that powerful either. Most low class citizens were already on their way to their work places, industry was still booming in Germany, but the stock market was becoming more and more unstable.

As Emil moved through the city, he saw a newspaper boy standing on a box to make him a little taller. The words he spoke however, was what caught Emil's attention.

"Russian president Alexander Kerensky killed! Read all about it!" The kid yelled at the top of his lungs. Several people went up to him and brought the paper, Emil included.

After giving the kid a few papiermark, Emil was handed a newspaper. Sure enough, it read with big letters.

 **Russian president Alexander Kerensky assassinated!**

 _Interesting, but a tragedy for the Russians._ Emil thought to himself

VOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOV

 **16/1 1936**

 **Military camp just outside Ryazan, Russia.**

The newspaper slammed on desk of Major Ilyich. He had just finished his breakfast. He looked up at a very angry Dimitri. Ilyich took a quick look at the newspaper, it read with big fat letters: **President Alexander Kerensky assassinated!**

"What the hell is going to happen now?" Dimitri asked as he pointed to the headline.

"Take it easy, Lieutenant. As long as you are a part of this army, your orders will come from the senate. You need not worry your head about events in Petrograd." Ilyich replied.

"You and I both knew he was the only one keeping the country together." Dimitri said.

"I know, but we should allow the senate to decide where to take things from here." Ilyich said as he looked over the paper one more time.

"This will end badly, and you know it." Dimitri stressed.

"If I were you, I would focus on being a soldier." Ilyich

"Yes sir." Dimitri replied coldly as he exited the room of the major.

VOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOV

 **15/1 1936**

 **Headquarters of San Francisco weekly.**

It was late in the evening; Robert had just finished a story about Huey Long, the so called leader of the south. Robert leaned back into his seat and looked at the story he had just finished. He pulled a pack of cigarettes and placed one in his mouth. Just as he was about to light up the cigarette, his boss Kenneth Jackson stormed into his office.

"Robert!" He yelled as he entered.

Robert looked up at him in confusion. "Yes?" He asked.

"I know it is late, but this new story is just in from the Russian embassy in Washington. The president was killed this morning." Kenneth explained as he put down an official report from the Russian embassy.

Robert looked over the report; sure enough it stated that the president was killed when climbing the steps to the Russian senate this morning.

"I'm on it" Robert said as he readied himself for another long writing session.

"Excellent!" Kenneth replied as took off.

Robert began to write about the publication of the report and made sure that it was eye-catching. He wasn't done until very early in the morning the next day. He quickly sent the article to the printer and soon everyone in San Francisco heard about the murder of the Russian president.

3


	3. Chapter 2: Black Monday

**Wednesday 5/2 1936**

 **SMS Kronprinz Wilhelm Friedrich, Singapore Harbor.**

Emil was currently enjoying his lunch in the captain quarters on the SMS Kronprinz Wilhelm Friedrich. He was reading a newspaper that was more than a week old. News that wasn't critical didn't hit the colonies as fast as he would like, but what could he do?

It was a quiet day, the weather was nice and the crew seemed in a good mood. He took a sip of his coffee and wondered how things were going back home. Ever since becoming a father, he found it really hard to go on these long journeys with the Kaiserliche marine.

He was about to take another bite from his meal, when the lieutenant came running. Emil put down the fork as the lieutenant, who was out of breath, regained his bearings.

"Captain!" He said as he tried to catch his breath.

"What is it, lieutenant?" Emil asked as he looked worried at him.

"You need to come see this" Hans replied.

"Can it wait? I'm in the middle of lunch here." Emil asked.

"No it can't. You need to come now!" the lieutenant requested.

"Fine" Emil said as he raised himself from his seat and put on his jacket. They walked to the telegram room, where there also was a sailor on duty. The room was already crowded with every officer on the ship; Emil caught an even more nervous feeling seeing everyone so hopeless.

"Well, what is it?" Emil asked.

"We received telegrams from back home, the stock market in Berlin just crashed. It's even worse than the 1929 New York crash." The radio officer answered.

"And the status back home?" Emil asked further.

"People are rioting, demanding their money back. The Rhineland has pretty much gone on a strike all together. It's looking bad." The radio officer replied as he went through the notes.

"Damn, this is not good." Emil commented as he thought about what to do in this situation. The crew probably wouldn't be happy with it and they would most likely strike as well. It was a tough call, because he held his crew in high regards and didn't think they deserved to have wool pulled over their eyes.

"What should we do?" Hans asked, it seemed all the officers on board had a similar question in mind.

"We keep this to ourselves for now. We'll wait for further orders from Berlin. We really can't afford a mutiny right now, even if it uncertain if they will even attempt such a thing." Emil ordered.

"That's going to be hard, news travels fast on this ship." Hans said.

"I know, but we will have to try. At least until we know the full extent of the crisis." Emil replied.

"Understood, sir." Hans said.

"You are all dismissed, return to your duties." Emil ordered. All the officers left the room, including Hans.

 _Let's hope I can control this situation._

VOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVO

 **Tuesday 4/2 1936**

 **Paris, French Commune**

"HAHAHHAHAHA" Pierre laughed out loud. He had just received the first reports from Germany about black Monday; it fueled his own perception of the market. He was surer than ever that syndicalism and a planned economy was the way forward.

"Stupid capitalists, they can't see the true light of syndicalism. France will not be affected by this, trust me." He preached to the large officer corps sitting in a military base just outside of Paris.

The officers shared a laugh with him, calling out the Germans and trash talking them.

"On a serious note, we can possible use this to our advantage." Pierre said as the room fell silent.

"The stockholders have turned to the streets and the Rhineland is experiencing unrest unlike ever before. We can maybe influence them to our side! Now the world can see that syndicalism is the true way for any government or country!" Pierre preached, receiving only positive feedback, fueling his own vison.

"They will cut back on spending for the military, now is the time to flex our muscles!" Pierre said. The room cheered at the remark.

"Organize war games along their border!" Pierre ordered. The officers quickly got to work making plans for upcoming war games, most likely with the union of Britain.

VOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVO

 **Thursday 6/2 1936**

 **CFB North Bay Air Field, Canada.**

George was tinkering on his Hawker Hurricane; he didn't trust the mechanics to do a good enough job on the fighters. The Hawker Hurricane was an experimental fighter at this point, not standard issue. The idea was that if the performed well enough, they would be properly introduced some next year.

George often closed himself off from his comrades and fellow pilots. Spending hours working on his one true love: Fighters. He didn't concern himself with news that wasn't overly important, especially if it wasn't Canadian or British.

He found it hard to conversate with others, mostly likely because he grew up without anyone to talk to. The airfield was rather empty right now, something that was rather uncommon. He wondered for a moment what was going on, when he heard a familiar voice.

"Hey redhead! What are you still doing here?" Mason asked.

George sighed. He had always been a target of abuse due to his hair. Back in the day he would have broken his jaw for commenting on his hair color, but now he had to act civilized, he had promised himself he would change.

"I work here." George stated as he went back to work on the engine.

"Didn't you get the briefing this afternoon?" Mason asked as he came up besides the plane.

"No" George bluntly answered as he didn't even bother to look at him.

"The German stock market crashed this Monday. It will affect the entire world. The Royal air force has sent most the pilots back home until they can discuss the matter with parliament." Mason explained.

"Well, good for them. I'm not leaving." George replied as he continued his work.

"Come on man. Let's go get a beer. It's on me." Mason suggested.

George stopped his work and looked at him. He thought about it, he then looked at the clock and realized that he had been working for 8 hours straight. Perhaps it would be better to go get that beer.

"Alright." George replied as he put the tools back where the belonged.

"Come on, this way." Mason said as he guided George out of the hangar.

VOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVO

 **Thursday 6/2 1936**

 **Military base, somewhere in central Siberia.**

Dimitri was making himself busy sharping his sabre. His horse stood nearby and looked at him while it chewed on the food. The hussar corps had been sent around the country to perhaps various tasks, most of them drills to keep them hardened.

It was lightly snowing, but that was to be expected when you were still in the winter period, especially when you are in Siberia. His coat kept him nice and warm, not to mention the fire in front of him. Dimitri finished his current task and put down the sword.

Dimitri filled his cup with coffee, when he heard the sound of a horse approaching. He looked up to see what was going on. A young corporal was on the horse; in his hand was a letter. He stopped his horse and discharged it. He ran straight for the major's tent. Dimitri was curious what was going on, so he approached the tent as well. He wasn't the only one in the company that was curious what was going on. Soon, the entire camp was standing outside the tent, waiting eagerly for news.

Raised voices were coming from the tent, the major seemed fairly angry. Soon he came out. He eyed the entire audience. His look was hard to read, but it was anything but pleased.

"I have received devastating news from Petrograd. The Berlin stock market crashed this Monday, making many people penniless. It has already hit Russia in some sectors. Dimitri Romanov has promised to handle the situation in any way he can, but until then the army is set on standby and should await further orders." Major Ilyich said.

Everyone was in shock over the news, not really sure how to react to the situation. A lot of cursing happened and some were already well on the way to cry over possible lost savings.

 _This just keep getting better and better_ Dimitri thought to himself as he went back to the camp fire to think about the situation and his possible lost savings. His family held a lot of stocks in not just Russian industry, but German as well.

VOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVO

 **Thursday 6/2 1936**

 **Headquarters of San Francisco weekly.**

"Robert!" Kenneth yelled down the hallway.

Robert had just finished a story about some youth organization that had just formed in San Francisco, when he heard his boss call out for him. Robert popped his head out from his office.

"Yes?" He replied.

"We got a major story that you need to cover right now. And I mean right now!" Kenneth said as he came into Robert's office.

"What is it?" Robert asked in response. Robert eyed the report in Kenneth's hands.

"The Berlin stock market crashed this Monday. It's even worse than 1929. This an official report from the German embassy in Washington. I went through hell to get it, I expect you to write a good story on it and I needed it done yesterday!" Kenneth was eager to get this story on the streets.

"I'll get it done" Robert said as he took the report from Kenneth's hands. Robert noted that they were shaking a bit. Robert got to work at once. Once again he had to work overtime to get the story out on the streets by the morning.

San Francisco weekly was the first newspaper to print the story in San Francisco and therefore it sold really well. But what was the money really worth when the crash would affect USA in a matter of weeks?

Robert chose not to dwell on such an issue and continued to what he did best. Covering events both locally and internationally.

VOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVO

 **Monday 10/2 1936**

 **SMS Kronprinz Wilhelm Friedrich, Andaman Sea.**

"Any news from Berlin?" Emil asked as he entered the radio quarters on the ship. They were currently sailing back to Kiel, after orders from the high command.

"The Kaiser just promised to insure the savings of private individuals. Things are still tense back home though." Hans replied. About half of the officers in the ship were currently fitted inside the rather small room.

"That's a relief! I think it's time to tell the crew." Emil said as he sighed in relief as wiped some sweat from his forehead.

"Are you sure? This really isn't really the best place to have a rebellion." Hans asked.

"I'm sure. We know that their savings are safe and sound." Emil answered.

"Okay." Hans replied. He respected Emil's judgement enough to trust him on this on.

 **15 minutes later**

Almost the entire crew was gathered on the deck of the ship. They weren't sure why and some of them started speculating about what it could be. They finally saw their captain come out of the ship and jumped on to one of the cannons on the battlecruiser.

"If I could have your attention please!" Emil yelled out, getting everyone to shut up almost in an instant.

"We have received news from Berlin. The stock market has crashed." Emil yelled out.

Some sailors were angry, some were sad and some didn't even know what the stock market was. Emil began explaining what had happened and what their orders were right now.

"Before you get too worked up, it would be wise to know that the Kaiser has insured the private holdings of all individuals." Emil said.

Most of the sailors were relived instantly. Some of them even cheered and began singing the royal anthem of the Kaiser Reich. Soon all of them joined in, even some of the officers. Emil smiled as he watched the happiness on the vessel increase.

They were joyfully on their way back to Kiel.

5


	4. Chapter 3: American Election

**I wanted to take a quick moment to thank a reviewer and reader who has helped give me many new and cool ideas for this story. He is known as 'akoslows' here on FanFiction.**

 **I salute you good sir!**

 **This story is slow-moving and it will be for some time. I may have over streched myself by having no less than four on-going stories.**

 **\- KanisRussell**

A few months had passed since we last checked in with the characters of this story. The world is an ever changing place in these troubled times. Black monday left the world in shock, but things have been looking up for most countries.

Kaiser Wilhelm the second intervened personally. Appering before the reichstag and the ruling government to force them to fix the issue. Through government investing and helping the poor, they have managed to get the situation under control. The Rhineland became silent, no longer were they protesting over the crisis that had dawned on them, they saw that the government were able to handle things. Germany began to prepare for what they saw as French aggerasion. Slowly, more money was being pumped into the military, it's flaws became apperant. Germany it's beginning to reform.

Russia had a similar way to stability, but they still have a long way to go. Dmitriy Romanov, the current ruling president of the Russian republic has issued programs that seem to help the Russian ecomony improve quite nicely. It was a slow process, but it helped. The red threat was slowly fading away in the country, but it was still there, haunting the minds of everyone. As economic stability becomes better, they will have to begin improving polictial stability.

The commune of France is on the war path. They saw an opportunity and was quick to seize it. They have mobilized on the eastern front against Germany, awaited a chance to attack. They have been improving their alliance to southern Italy and the union of Britian. They are making sure they are ready for the coming war. They weren't hit by black monday and so they can continue as they see fit.

Canada was a hot mess, while they have slowly been recovering from the stock crash, they aren't as well off as the Germans. Canada awaits their chacne to take back the home isles, but finds themselves in an unfortunate position. The king is trying his best to get everything under control, but such a task is not simple, not by a longshot.

This chapter however, will not focus on any of these nations or the characters within them, it will focus on one character: Robert. The US election is coming up, the US was too hit hard by the stock crash. It has created more tension than anything else, so how will the election go?

* * *

 **5/4 1936**

 **Headquarters of San Francisco weekly.**

Roberts was busy putting the final touches on a story from the local area, it was about a woman who had lost everything in the wake of black monday and it's horrors. It was a sob story, nothing more, nothing less. The typewriter pinged as he finished the last line. He celebrated his victory by granting himself a cigarette.

He took the time to get out a set of reports he had gotten from Mexico. If things were bad in America, they were even worse in Mexico. He had wanted to cover a story about the events for the last month now, but had always been denied the funding he needed to cover it. He sighed as he leaned back into his chair and puffed out some smoke.

The de-facto leader of the Syndicalist Zapatistas party, Emiliano Zapata, had died only about a month ago, which was what Robert had hoped to cover in a new story. The military had been quick to take control and were now beginning to form their own government. Robert didn't know what to think, but he would like a chance to see things for himself.

Roberts' train of thoughts was cut short, when his boss Kenneth walked into his office. Robert quickly set down his cigarette into the ashtray and stood up from his chair to greet his boss. "Hey mr. Jackson. What can I do for you?" Robert asked as Kenneth closed the door behind in an effort to make sure no one else heard their conversation. Robert looked at him confused.

Kenneth dropped a train ticket unto Robert's desk. Robert quickly skimmed it through. "Why do you want me in Baton Rouge, Louisiana?" Robert asked confused.

"I need you to do an interview." Kenneth replied.

"With whom?" Robert asked.

"Senator Huey Long." Was the short reply.

"Forget, I'm not interviewing him." Robert simply stated as he took a seat in his chair.

"This is not up for debate! He is one of the four presidential candidates and probably the most influential men in the south. This is the first interview he has agreed to in over a year, and he name dropped you personally!" Kenneth explained.

"Me? But why?" Robert asked.

"I don't know, but it must be done. It will be the greatest stoy of the month!" Kenneth answered.

"When will I interview him?" Robert asked as he leaned forward in his seat.

"In a week. You'll leave tomorrow morning." Kenneth replied as he paced around in Robert's office.

"A week?! I don't have any questions for him!" Robert complained.

"Write your questions in the train. I need you to do this!" Kenneth responded.

"If I do this, then I want to write the story on Mexico!" Robert demanded.

"FINE!" Kenneth yelled, almost alearting the entire office.

"You get this done, I'll grant you funding for your Mexico project." Kenneth promised.

"Good." Robert said as he leaned back into his seat.

"Jesus fucking christ." Kenneth muttered as he left the room and slammed the door behind him.

* * *

 **7/4 1936**

 **Train wagon nr. 4. On route to Louisiana.**

Robert was sitting by the window. The last two days had been not stop traveling. He sighed as he rested his head against the seat. It was by no means comfortable. He looked over the small notebook he kept with himself on all times. It held the questions he was going to ask Huey Long. With the small timeframe he had been given, it was impossible to prepare any sort of good questions, but he would have to try.

Robert looked out over the country side that passed by. Every train station they passed had beggars on it, every small town had signs written all over them, telling people how bad it was. He really hadn't seen the crisis first hand until now, it seemed the south was even worse off than the rest of the country.

He decided to write down what he saw, perhaps he could use it in the story somehow. The train ride wasn't smooth by any means, in fact there was a few bumps in the tracks, making the train do a small jump every now and then.

* * *

 **11/4 1936**

 **Baton rouge, Louisiana.**

The Train came to an halt as it drove into the station. Robert got up from his seat and grabbed his suitcase. He hurried out of the train. He found the streets of Baton Rouge surprisingly clean and well maintained. He had the wrong picture of how the south was doing. He didn't have time to dwell on it however, he hurried to his hotel. He checked in and went straight for his room. He threw himself on the bed and almost fell asleep instantly. The bed was indeed comfortable and very soft compared to the stiff seats of the train.

He was still worried about tomorrow, about how the interview would go. He needed it to be good, if he wanted any chance of getting that funding for the mexican story.

* * *

 **12/4 1936**

 **Baton rouge, Louisiana.**

The air was hot and humid, a bit too much for Robert's liking. He walked along the street on his way to the capitol building, where Huey Long had his office whenever he wasn't in Washington. Robert finalled spotted the giant bulidning, it was unlike any capitol buildning he had ever seen before. It dwarfed the landscape around it.

From what Robert could gather, it was a testimony to Huey Long and his ability to do what was needed. But the buildning seemed unnecessary. Robert slowly walked up the steps of the giant structure. He felt like a small ant. He went through the big set of double doors and into the great hall. He walked up to the desk of one of the workers. He had taken off his jacket due to the hot weather.

"Excuse me miss, I'm here for an interview with Mr. Long. I'm Robert C. Davis from 'San Francisco weekly'" Robert said with a smile.

"Of course, just take the stairs over there, his office is on the thrid floor." She smiled back.

"Thank you, miss." He said as he walked over to the stairs. He sighed as he looked at them.

After walking up all the stairs, Robert was all out of breath as he reached the office of Huey Long. Robert knocked on the door a couple of times. Finally a voice with a southern accent called for him to come on in. Robert did so and was amazed at the office. It was very nice. There was a large window looking over the city. Huey Long stood by the window and looked out over the city.

Robert took a seat infront of his desk. He took out his small notebook.

"What a state." Huey started.

"You know, when I took over, it was nothing more than a backwater shithole. Now look at it." Huey said as he kept his glance looking over the city.

"I have to admit, I was pleasantly surprised. Some of the other states isn't as well off." Robert replied as he shifted in his seat.

"That is kind of the message I'm hoping to send. Anything is possible when you choose the right path. I'll tell you, it wasn't easy."

"If you don't mind me asking, Mr. Long. Why did you choose me for this interview?" Robert asked.

"This country is changing, it's getting more and more divided. I see every newspaper picking sides. All expect yours, your articles have me impressed, your unbiased view of America is to be admired. I believe the country needs more people like you, and more people like me." Huey answered.

"I'm flattered. Could you tell me more about this 'Share the weath' program you got going?"

"You remember Franklin Roosevelt, god rest his soul, right?" Robert nodded.

"He had a similar plan. It was called 'A new deal'. My program is very similar to his, in the sense that we both want the state to play a bigger role. Louisiana has responed well to it's features. We all throw money into the state and the state ensures that public projects are build, increasing employment. It all ends in a circle that will bring more and more money into society."

"You have often stated your 'dislike' for Syndicalists, but some of your opposition has called your program for 'left-leaning'. What are your comments on that." Robert asked.

"Some people will always find ways to twist my views and my program. My program is for americans. It will be so well done, that every red in the country will turn to it. In this country, every man is a king, but no one wears a crown."

"What do you think your chances are of winning the election?"

"Very good. I have support in the south and the midwest, that is what is really needed. People need time to warm up to the idea of me as president. But it is not as crazy as you think."

They continued their interview for about 2 hours, never stopped finding another subject to discuss. Robert began to like Huey more and more. His view of him changed as the man spoke with great enthusiasm about his own program. It was admirable to say the least. Robert often forgot to remark the senators comments in his notebook, because he was too busy listing to him speak.

Robert was about to ask another question, when he heard a knock on the door. They both turned their eyes to the door. Huey called for whoever it was to come in.

"Mr. Long, there is a telegram from the Senate for you. It is labeled as up-most important." The secretary explained as she handed Huey the telegram.

"Thanks Darling." He replied as he opened it. "Excuse me mr. Davis." Huey said as he began reading it. Robert waited patiently for them to continue on with the interview. Huey began to look more and more stressed and displeased at the content of the telegram. When he was done reading it, he pressed the letter into a small ball and tossed it across the room.

"What is it?" Robert asked concerned.

"Someone named Jose Antonio Urquiza just overthrew the unstable government of Mexico. He is apperently the leader of something called The Sinarquistas. The senate is concerned about what will happen, they have labeled him as 'extreme'."

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know, but I'm afraid I will have to cut our interview short. Goodbye Mr. Davis. It has been a pleasure to speak with you today." Huey offered a handshake and Robert gladly accepted.

Robert went back to his hotel. His mind kept going back to Mexico, it had finally boiled over. He knew of this Jose, and he didn't like him one bit. To be honest, Robert was a little bit scared, not really sure what to do. He would now only have to finish up the final touches of the interview, before he could focus on Mexico.

* * *

Months passed and things became worse. Not only was the country divided, but now a new threat was on the southern border. Most american leaders didn't take this Jose seriously. Robert visited Mexico several times over a few months and became more and more scared each time he was there. Jose was gaining power and he was gaining it fast.

There were rumors, none of them comfirmed, that Jose has doing terrible things within the country. Burned down villages, turning big cities up-side down to find enemies of the state and much more. One of the people who claimed these were true, was a man named Pancho Villa. A true Syndicalist that had been hunted by Jose.

Robert had interviewed him briefly in New York, where Pancho had come to supprot Jack Reed's bit for president. He said that an entire city had been burned down, 90.000 people had been killed alongside the mayor, in an effort to send a 'message'.

The event had been dubbed 'The Monterrey Purge' by the media. It was hard to get any true angle on it, since Mexico had all but closed off their borders with the US and the rest of the word. No one was really interested in going there anyway. Even the Kaiser had called Jose a 'Mass murder' and a 'Barabarian'.

Mexico was becoming more and more radical, Jose's grip over the country tighten with every action. No one could read him, no one knew what he would do next.

* * *

 **3/11 1936**

 **Headquarters of San Francisco weekly.**

The entire office was sitting around the radio. Eagerly awaiting the news about the election. Robert had changed his mind about Huey in almost every way. Now he supported him. The radio slowly called out each state and who had won it. Most people could have predicted what states went to who. The north went to Jack Reed and the reds, The south and some of the midwest went to Huey Long and the rest of the country was split between Charles Curtis and John Garner.

All in all. Mr. Huey Long won the election. Some cheered, others were grumpy, having hoped for another one to lead the nation into greatness.

Hours passed, the newspaper had to be updated. Everything seemed well, for now at least. Now it was Huey's time to shine. What would he do? What would happen to the country? Only time would tell.


	5. Chapter 4: Worryingly news

**A/N: Hey fellas!**

 **Just wanted to say something before we begin the chapter. The story jumps a bit in dates, going back and forth. Please keep in mind, that I use the european calendar: DAY/MONTH/YEAR.**

 **Anyhow, enjoy the chapter!**

 **20/5 1936**

 **Kiel, German Kaiserreich**

Emil was currently enjoying breakfast. It was traditional German breakfast. At the same time he was reading the news. He had his reading glasses on, but he still found it hard to concentrate, mostly because his newborn son was crying.

Emil's son was only 2 weeks old by now, he had been named Wilhelm, in honor of the crown prince Wilhelm III, who the kid shared his birthday with.

While the sound of the baby did seem annoying, he couldn't help but love the small trouble maker. It must have been those father genes in him. His wife tried all she could to calm the little man down.

Emil had been placed on desk service for now. The Kaiserliche marine was only beginning to get its bearings once again. He was, however, just fine with desk service for now, since it meant that he could devote more time to his family.

He did however; catch something rather interesting in the newspaper. With the American election coming up, people were already busy covering the event. The American election was, however, not the most talked about event.

The Spanish civil war had just started. Three sides were fighting each other, the loyalist (Those who remained loyal to the king), the Carlists (Those who believed that another King should have the throne) and finally, the syndicalists (Those who wanted a model similar to that of the French commune)

It would seem like the world was plagued with wars at the moment. Emil however, decided to read what was happening within the US. The German newspapers were already making profiles about each candidate. There was an excellent interview with Huey Long in the paper, translated by the German newspaper. The original author was still named; A Mr. Robert Davis.

 _Interesting_ Was the only thought Emil was thinking when the phone rang. Emil's wife was quick to pick it up, while still holding their infant son in her arms. She spoke for a moment with however had called, before she spoke up to Emil.

"Emil?" She asked.

"Yes?" He asked back as he stopped chewing on a piece on bread.

"It's your mother; she wishes to speak with you." Monika explained.

"Right." Emil said as he rose from his seat and went over to pick up the telephone.

"Hello?" Emil asked into the phone and awaited a response from his mother.

"Emil? Thank god, I'm so worried!" She proclaimed.

"About what?" Emil asked.

"Your brother, Jakob, he has enlisted with the volunteer forces to Spain!"

"He has WHAT?"

"You heard me, Hans just told me. I can't get through to him. Please! Go speak to him. I can't bear to lose one of my sons, losing your father was enough!" She pleaded.

"Is he still in town?"

"Yes, he doesn't leave until next week."

"I'll speak with him, don't worry mother."

"Thank you." She said, it was clear that she had been crying.

Emil hung up the phone. His wife looked concerned at him. "What happened?"

"Jakob has gotten himself in trouble. I have to speak with him right away."

"Your brother?"

"Yes, I'll be back before you know it." Emil said as he kissed his wife on her cheek.

* * *

The walk to his brother's apartment was short, but then again he hadn't really walked, he had almost been sprinting over there.

When Emil came to Jakob's front door, he knocked hard three times until he heard a voice call out. " Come in!"

Emil quickly entered and quickly saw his brother standing in the kitchen drinking a cup of coffee. "What they HELL has gotten into you!" Emil almost shouted as he came to a halt on the other side of the table in the kitchen.

"What do you mean?" Jacob asked.

"WHAT DO I MEAN? You have signed up for DEATH! That's what I mean!" Emil was furious as he spoke. Jakob however, seemed to keep his cool.

"I have signed up for the Spanish volunteer forces, so what?"

"Do you realize you are walking into a complete war, WILLINGLY?"

"I'd rather be fighting syndicalists in Spain, then fighting them here in Germany."

"Our father had the same idea when going to war in France, look how that turned out!"

"There is no guarantee I'll die. And don't bring our Father into this!"

"There is no guarantee you'll live either! You are only 25 years old for Christ's sake!"

"I'm old enough to make my own decisions! You joined the navy, you fought in the war! If you refuse for me to go, you are a giant hypocrite!"

"That was different! Germany was at war, they needed people! You are going to fight for a king that isn't even your own?"

"I have made up my mind, and you can't change it! Now leave, please"

Emil saw that he couldn't help his brother. Jakob had made up his mind. If he was brother was anything, he was certainly stubborn. Just as Emil was about to leave, he made a final remark.

"She is dying, you know that right?"

"Who is dying?"

"Our mother. She has Tuberculosis."

"Why haven't I been notified?"

"She was worried how you would react. I'm the only one that knows. She is afraid she will outlive her son."

"Damn... That's... That's troubling news."

"That's all you have to say? 'That's troubling news'? You really are cold hearted"

"What do you want me to say or do? Drop to me knees and cry? Pray to god?"

"I would expect you to show some sort of decent reaction!"

"Please, leave my house. I have made up my mind about his matter. Neither you or mother can change my mind."

Emil then finally left the house, he wasn't sure if it was the right call, in fact, it probably wasn't. What more could he do? Jakob seemed very determined to go to the slaughterhouse. All Emil could hope for was that his brother didn't die. That he wouldn't get a telegram telling him that Jakob was lying dead in a trench somewhere in Spain.

He left the apartment block with a heavy heart, mostly for his mother. He wasn't sure how she would react to the news of her son going to Spain.

* * *

 **20/5 1936**

 **US-Mexican border.**

This was the third time Robert was going to Mexico. Kenneth had granted him a rather large amout of funding, considering the story about Huey Long became so popular. San Francisco weekly was quickly becoming one of the best-selling newspapers, and Robert had come a step closer to his dream of being a world famous journalist.

Now, he was going to focus on this story, one he had been begging Kenneth to write for about a few months now. Getting into Mexico was even harder than before, the new government had been quick to apply their new laws.

Robert was waiting at a train station. He was supposed to be picked up by a local, who would help me with the story. While waiting, Robert treated himself to a cigarette. When he was about to light the cigarette, some of what people had dubbed 'gold shirts' walked by. They were the army and backbone of the ' _Unión Nacional Sinarquista_ '. The party in charge, they didn't seem interested in him.

Horrible reports were coming out of Mexico, and Robert didn't really know what to think of them. Just then, one of the gold shirts grabbed an old man and shoved him on the ground. They spoke to him in Spanish, so Robert couldn't really understand them. They began kicking the poor man, over and over again. Robert quickly wrote down what he saw in his notebook.

The gold shirts then grabbed the man by his arms and dragged him away from the station. Robert was in shock, in his two last visits, they hadn't done anything like that. He suddenly left a hand pinch his shoulder. Robert was terrified and thought it might be the gold shirts coming back for him.

Lucky for him, it wasn't them. It was his helper. The information on his helper had been very little; in fact, he didn't even know their name, gender or anything else. It was a female. She was about, 5'6 feet tall(Same height as him), if Robert had to guess. Long dark hair and a nice pair of brown eyes.

"Hello." She said in a sweet voice.

"Sorry, didn't see you there." Robert said as he calmed down. She smiled.

"I'm Margarita Almonte. I assume you are Robert Davis?" She asked. She spoke English very well.

"I am indeed, is that sort of thing normal in Mexico?" Robert asked.

"What thing?" She asked back.

"Those gold shirts beating an old man."

"I'm afraid it has come down to that. This country is in chaos, Mr. Davis. I'm a journalist; I hope to bring this story to Mexico." She replied.

"Then we got common interests, Mrs. Almonte."

"We do indeed; shall we head for my car?" She asked.

"Lead on."

The car really wasn't anything special, but it was a nice change from the train. They spoke all the way to Mexico City. Margarita had chosen the events they were to attend, and it would seem that the government would host a military parade in the capital of the nation.

* * *

 **21/5 1936**

Many hours later, they were in Mexico City. They had rented a room in a hotel in the center of the city. The city was already being prepared for the event. It wasn't until now they noticed that they had rented a room with only one bed.

"It would appear we have to sleep together." Robert said in a cheeky manner.

"Don't push your luck. You can have the sofa." She replied as she pointed to the sofa in the corner of the room.

"Really?" He asked trying his best to put on a pair of puppy eyes. She just laughed him off.

It was just a little over midnight, so they went to sleep.

* * *

They arose early in the morning. They were awoken by the early sounds of the pre-parade taking place. Robert spent most of the morning looking out over the street below the hotel room, just observing what was going on down below.

Taking a drag from his cigarette, he heard his companion step out of the bathroom. "You ready to go?" She asked.

"Yeah." He replied as he took his bag with all his equipment.

The streets were covered in Mexican nationalist flags, posters and other mishaps. They made their way to the city center, where the official parade would take place. The government of Mexico hadn't invited any other nations to partake in the parade, or even observe it for that matter.

Gold shirts patrolled every corner of every street. They eyed Robert with disgust every time he passed them, it seemed that he wasn't welcome in Mexico, and that he should walk with caution.

They finally reached the center, where the troops would parade. They had about 30 minutes before it would start, so they found themselves a nice spot, where they could see pretty much everything. Robert pulled out a camera from his bag and began to snap a few shots of the parading grounds.

Then the music started, a voice called out in Spanish over the speakers. "They are starting now." Margarita said to Robert.

"Right, can you take photos? I'll have to write down in my notebook" Robert asked.

"Of course." She replied as she took the camera out of his hands.

First came the Mexican Calvary, almost shining in all their medals and gold. They all saluted their leader. Jose was standing on a balcony, looking over the army, or rather, his army. Robert could just about see him, and the leader of Mexico seemed rather pleased with his army. Robert was used to note everything down, and Margarita made sure to take photos of the event.

Then came the tanks, and there was a lot of them. Rows upon rows, they came down the market square. It would seem like he had an infinite amount of them. Robert was no military expert, and certainly not on the newest machines of war, but they seemed to be light tanks mostly.

Then the soldiers came marching, their boots almost made a small earthquake every time they made contact with the ground. All of them looked stocked like they were ready to go to war. It was clear that Jose's government wanted to send a message to not just the world, but his own population. He was showing his strength.

Hours had passed before the official parade was over, now, they awaited only that Jose himself would make a speech. Margarita stood ready to translate everything to Robert, who had his notebook ready.

"My loyal subjects! I'm so glad to see so many people gathered to watch our glorious army. The armed forces serve Mexico and her interests with absolute loyalty and will be our line of defense against all those who wishes to undermine Mexico! We resist the false songs of Syndicalism, we resist the imperialist nature of Europe and the United states!"

"Our father nation, Spain, is fighting itself. They are weak, beaten, but we remain whole! We have evolved; the Mexican people are truly superior. We have the best genes from Europe and the natives of this land! Mexico will be on top of the world. Everywhere, people will know us, countries will fear us!" Jose cried out over the balcony, his voice was carried by the speakers. Cheers were heard throughout the streets of the city.

As the people slowly became silent once again. Jose continued with his speech. "Yet, the world remains ignorant of our superiority! Our neighbors have seen fit to question our superiority, they spit on us! They laugh at us! The savages of Centroamerica have attacked us; they see us as weak, unable to defend ourselves! I, on the behalf of all of Mexico, declare war on the infidels. Their days are numbered; our army will run them over. We will burn and pillage their land! Viva méxico!" The crowd erupted into cheers; everyone was shouting the same thing "Viva méxico!"

It could probably be heard for miles, never had the Mexican people been so united in hate and anger. Never had anything like this happened. Both Robert and Margarita were in shock, they hadn't seen it coming. Robert knew Jose was unpredictable, but this? He had never expected anything like this. It was safe to say that the same feeling applied to Margarita, Robert could even swear there was a small tear running down her cheek.

* * *

 **26/5 1936**

 **Lorca, Spain.**

Pierre was busy inspecting his troops. He had been sent to Spain to help their brethren in their fight to install a Syndicalist regime in Spain. Their initial efforts had proven well, the Spanish kingdom was busy fighting the Carlists, who were fighting for another Monarch.

Pierre's involvement in the Weltkrieg had made him one of the best officers France has had in a long time. His troops were a mixture of Spanish soldiers and French volunteers. It was clear to Pierre that his French troops were better armed and trained. Most of the Spanish soldiers looked like they had just had been picked up from their farm home or job in the city.

He walked along the straight line they had formed. He had to make sure they were ready for battle. He knew that the practice of inspecting the troops before battle was outdated, but he liked doing it. And to some extent, he believed the soldiers liked it too.

His sword rattled as he walked along down the line. He was only equipped with the sword and a MAB Model D pistol, that sat still in his leather holster that was attached to his belt.

After another 30 minutes or so, Pierre was satisfied with the look of his own battalion. He jumped onto of a car and called for everyone's attention. All soldiers looked up at him.

"My brothers, I hope you are well! Today is a big day!" He started, everyone was keeping quiet and looking at him.

"Today is the day we begin our offensive into the territory of the tyrannical king, who has oppressed you for so long! While you starved, he feasted! While your savings were gone, he pocketed your money! No longer will we accept this, today is the beginning of the end for his tyranny!" Pierre continued.

Cheers began to erupt from the soldiers; they were all more than happy to take down the king. Pierre was thrilled to be at the center of attention, he knew, he just knew that Spain would be where he gained his ultimate fame. He didn't care about the Spanish soldiers, they were but tools. He only cared about winning over Spain as an ally for France. With the southern front secure, they could focus more on Germany.

"We'll march towards Almería! Soon, everyone in Spain will see Syndicalism as the true government form! Workers unite! Soldiers unite! THE PEOPLE OF SPAIN UNITE!"

The trains stood ready, the battalion boarded them with haste. The soldiers were busy singing _'¡Ay Carmela!'_ as the boarded. Pierre of course, got into the nice wagon along with the other officers. Soon, the trains took off, driving to war.

The radio in the wagon came to life as an officer fiddled with it. It was from the official neutral Spanish radio, which was supposed to cover each part of the war and its members equally.

"News reports from the newly formed French empire, states that Napoleon IV, who was crowned only 2 days ago, has pledged support to Carlist faction in the form of weapons and soldiers. This action has forced the Spanish kingdom to cut ties with the French empire, who was otherwise a huge business partner in the past. The Spanish kingdom however, received supplies from both Germany and Russia, the kings situation has gained international support-" Pierre cut off the radio after cursing the officer for turning it on in the first place.

"Damn fools! They can't win! Those cowards hiding in the former colonies will regret meddling with French affairs!" Pierre preached.

* * *

 **21/5 1936**

Robert and Margarita were back at the hotel. None of them had really said a word to each other since returned from the military parade. Robert had been quick to send his findings back to HQ with telegram, making sure that his newspaper would be the first to print the event in the USA.

They had spent the last hour in the hotel room, Robert had been trying to say something, but it was like he was incapable of forming a basic sentence. But he really felt like he needed to say something.

"You... Ehm... Okay?" He finally asked. He watched her face slowly appeared from behind her arms.

"I'm... not sure. I don't know what to do." She replied softly.

"There isn't much you can do. This crazy train has already left the station. I don't know where it's headed." Robert remarked as he shifted in his seat.

"Thank you." She replied in a quiet voice.

"For what?" Robert asked with curiosity.

"I think I needed to hear that." She answered. She looked a bit better.

"How about we get some fresh air?" Robert suggested as he arose from his seat.

"That sounds lovely."

They both got up and went out the door. Once they got out, they had no trouble speaking. They spoke for what seemed like hours. They soon found out that they had a lot in common; they spoke about politics, their private life, and their work. They both shared a passion for Journalism, they both wanted to be known around the world, and they both were disgusted with Jose's Mexico.

"It wasn't always like this." She said out of nowhere as they walked down one of the main streets of the giant city.

Robert looked over at her with a confused look. "What do you mean?" He asked.

"Mexico used to be a place of hope, new beginnings, and a place that was going somewhere. Now I can't even recognize my own home. People have turned on each other. It's like they have gone feral. I want to make a difference, but sometimes I feel like I do nothing but waste paper."

"Hey, change doesn't happen from one day to the next. As long as you keep trying, as long as you fight, there is hope. You are doing good work here, Margarita. You are a light in the darkness for these people; you publish truth, while the government feed them lies."

"I'm glad you think so. It's just... Hard to keep up the fight."

"We'll get through it... Together."

"You promise?"

"Yes, I promise."

Robert had to admit, he had started to like the girl. In some way, there was a connection on some deeper level. He didn't know how, and he didn't know if the feeling was mutual. Yet something told him that is was.

"How about we get something to eat?" Robert suggested as the passed onto the main market square of the city.

"That sounds good." She said. She had to admit, this entire ordeal had made her hungry. She hadn't really eaten since the day before.

She had grown to like Robert; there was something special about him, though she couldn't put her finger on what it was. All though he was short, he made up for it with his personality. She did also find him quite handsome. She wondered how he viewed her.

Robert let Margarita pick out the restaurant, since she was the local. Having been born in Mexico City and all. She led the way, while he followed closely behind. Robert stopped to light himself a cigarette, and in that moment he noticed a smell.

The smell was so awful; he began to gag a little bit. It smelled like, rotten flesh. He looked around the main square for the source, and was horrified when he looked up at the monument in the center. Strapped to the concrete, were the remains of a human. At first glance, Robert wasn't even sure if it was a human, it had been starved to the point where the bones and skin was the only things left.

"Who is that!?" Robert asked horrified as he pointed to the corpse.

"Oh that? That is poor old Alejandro González, former mayor of Monterrey. He found himself on the wrong side of Jose. He died only a few days ago."

"And nobody has done anything?"

"No, the goldshirts make sure nobody get anywhere near it."

Robert grabbed his camera and took a picture of the horrible scene. He would print that in the paper, that ought to give people the idea of what it is like to live in Jose's Mexico.

They both agreed to find another place to eat, the smell was imply unbearable.

* * *

 **30/5 1936**

 **Small village in southern Spain.**

Pierre was furious. The progess had been less than ideal on their part. The idea seemed simple, simply march into the costal city. But for course it hadn't been simple. One Spanish unit had been harassing them the entire way, stalling them at every possible moment. They always knew just when to attack.

Now, they had finally pinned them down by a small village. They had besieged them, making any form for retreat impossible. Pierre was torn between waiting them out, or flushing them out with force.

His officers were already making plans for every possible route. Pierre however, grw more and more impatient as the hours went by.

"We launch an attack!" Pierre ordered out of nowhere.

"Sir, are you sure?" A Spanish officer asked.

"Yes I am, prepare the men!"

And so they did. They had the artillery soften them up a little bit first. The small village looked like an ancient city that had just been dug up when the stopped firing. The only thing that remained, was the church tower. Whoever had been holded up in some of the buildings were long dead by now. The troops began to march towards the city.

Then came a shot from the church tower. The sounds echoed throughout the hills, and ended when it reached its target, a officer. The bullet had gone straight through the forehead of the French officer.

Pierre grew mad, and ordered everyone to storm the chruch. Several more shots were exchanged between the sniper and the soldiers, before they finally came out of the church with the sniper in handcuffs.

Pierre grew even more mad, when he saw the sniper. He recognized the uniform. Stahlhelm, Jackboots, field-grey uniform, a belt button with 'Gott Mit Uns' written on it. A german volunteer. Pierre began punching the man, and then kicking him. He kept on going to his own foot grew numb. The other officers had to stop him before he killed the man.

The soldiers were quick to get the prisoner away and into custody. Pierre was now certain that they could get to their target without anyone stopping them, but they had lost days, days they couldn't really afford.


	6. Chapter 5: Death and suffering

_**7/6 1936**_

 **Mexico City.**

"You are listing to Voices of the Sinarquismo, the national radio of Mexico! I'm your host, Efrain Gonzalez Luna, and I'm pleased to announce to you the success of the Mexican army in conquering Centroamerica and getting rid of the cancer known as Syndicalism! Our army has run them over, they now know the true power of Mexico and it's people! We can thank our glorious general Joaquín Amaro for this great victory! But, that vile scum that hides behind his border, Mr. President Hoover has seen fit to condemn our actions! Soon, even he shall know the power of the Mexican people. Jose will rule Central America and he shall-"

Robert went over to the radio and turned it off. They were currently still in Mexico city, and things were getting worse every day. Jose had completely taken out Centro America in a matter of weeks, his army seemed unstoppable.

"I never figured that Efrain would run propaganda news for Jose. He never struck me as a believer in that type of ideology." Margarita commented from the bed of their hotel room.

"Have you spoken to him?" Robert asked.

"I interviewed him a few years ago. He was a very popular lawyer. I heard rumors that he was forced to join the party. I'm not so sure what is true and false anymore." Margarita replied

"Huh, this country grows more rotten everyday... No offense." Robert remarked.

"None taken. I really hope we can turn this around." Margarita replied.

"You and me both. I have never seen anything like this, aren't the international community going to do something?" Robert asked her as much as he asked himself.

"No, they don't care about Mexico. One dictator falls and another takes his place, what difference does it make to them?" Margarita answered with a hint of sadness in her voice.

"But President Hoover-" Robert tried to object.

"Your President condemned Jose. That's all he did. He said some nasty words, so what? Do you think that would stop him? There will be no sanctions; there will be no international peace keeping force. Mexico and its people are in this alone." Margarita explained. It made sense. Robert knew that the average American didn't give 2 shits about Mexico.

"You're right." Robert said.

Then silence fell upon the room. Robert decided to dig into his backpack, and he found Jose's book: _Mi Visión._ He had picked up the book from the central market in Mexico City a few days before. It was perhaps a good way to understand the mindset of a madman.

 _"One summer evening in 1932, I was heading to bed, when I heard something remarkable. During my sleep, the voice of God whispered to me. His voice was so soft and sweet, how could I do anything but listen? He told me his plan, he chose me to lead, to give vision to the blind-"_

Robert was interrupted in his reading by Margarita, who was now standing in front of him. "What are you doing?" She asked.

"Reading." Robert stated.

"And why in the hell would you read his book?"

"I need to understand him, to understand what is going on inside that brain of his."

"I'm... not comfortable looking at the book, much less you reading it."

Robert looked at her confused, but if she was really this upset by seeing the book, he would put it away. "Fine" He said as he put the book back into his bag.

"Thank you." She said.

"So... What is the schedule for today?" Robert asked as he found his notebook.

"I don't know. We have pretty much seen everything so far..." She replied

"Then let's take a walk! I can't stand sitting anymore in this hotel room!" Robert suggested as he raised himself from the sofa and equipped his jacket. Margarita let out a sigh as she watched him get ready.

"Okay." She accepted and quickly found her jacket and purse. Robert opened the door for her, and she quickly went out. Robert locked the door and so they left the hotel. Robert had taken his camera and notebook with him, should something interesting happen.

Stepping outside, he realized the sun was almost cooking him. The weather down here was much worse than back home. Margarita, of course, didn't have a problem with it. They streets were filled with life, posters and flags. So many flags…. A poster showed Jose, dressed in his usual attire, almost reaching out to the reader. The poster read: _He shall lead us to greatness and salvation._

Religious nuts... That was the only words Robert could think of. Jose believed himself to be a prophet of God, divine and holy, sent to guide the Mexican people into a new era of greatness. The fact that people actually believed him was even more baffling.

As they walked, they came by a small store. On the store, there were posters for something different; it was left-leaning messages. How come Jose hadn't taken them down yet? The shopkeeper came out and looked around, he spotted Margarita. Apparently they knew each other, because Margarita rushed across the street to greet the man.

They spoke to each other in Spanish, so Robert didn't have a clue what they were talking about. They spoke for a little while, their voices was filled with happiness. Then, Margarita finally turned to Robert.

"Robert, this is my Uncle Ricardo." Margarita introduced.

"Nice to meet you, sir." Robert greeted as he offered a handshake, Ricardo accepted. He said something in Spanish.

"My uncle doesn't speak English, but he says it's nice to meet you." Margarita translated.

They kept on talking in Spanish to each other; Robert didn't know what they were talking about. Then, out of nowhere, some gold shirts came running. They threw bricks into the windows, they threw the groceries out on the street, and they ripped the posters from the wall. Robert and Margarita backed up, but Ricardo wasn't fast enough.

They threw him on the ground, and began kicking him. They didn't stop, never once did they stop. Margarita began crying for them to stop, but they wouldn't listen. Poor Ricardo never stood a chance. Robert, perhaps without thinking, grabbed his camera and took a photo. The guards quickly stopped their beating, when they heard the sound and looked around to see Robert holding the camera.

Time froze when Robert realized what was going on. He heard the one of the gold shirts call out. " _Gringo! Give me that camera now!"._ Even though Robert couldn't speak Spanish, he knew right then and there that they were after him. His instincts took over, and all he managed to do was grab Margarita by the hand and tug her with him. He tugged her so quickly that she dropped her purse.

"My purse!" She screamed out.

"Leave it!" Robert ordered as they ran. The gold shirts ran after them, some of them stopped to pick up her purse.

They ran for a long time, they ran past their hotel. They simply didn't have the time to go in and get their things. The only thing they had time for, was getting the car. They had to leave, they knew it. They jumped in the car and Margarita put the key in the ignition. She drove fast through the city, almost running over some gold shirts on the way. They drove out of the city as fast as possible.

* * *

 **7/6 1936**

 **Kiel, German empire.**

Emil was sitting at his desk, filling in paperwork. There was a tower of it right beside him. He smoked a cigarette as he never let the pen leave his hand. It was still desk work for him and the crew. The navy, and the army, was slowly beginning to get more funding again as the economic situation got better in Germany. Franz Von Papen had done well in that regard, his investment program helped kick start the industry again.

Emil had been worried sick for the last couple of weeks; he hadn't heard a single thing from his brother. He feared the worst. As he kept on writing, the phone rang. He picked it up.

"Emil Denziger speaking." He said.

"Captain Denziger? This is Major Patrick Haeusser speaking." The voice introduced. Emil began to panic, that was the officer for the German volunteers to the Spanish Kingdom.

"Yes?" Emil asked nervously. He wasn't sure if he really wanted to hear what the man had to say.

"I regret to inform you... that your brother has been captured by syndicalist forces." The major replied. Emil didn't know what to say. There was silence for a few moments.

"So... he is alive?" Emil asked as he gained back his voice.

"As far as we can tell... But we can't be certain forever." Major Haeusser explained.

"Okay... Thanks for telling me." Emil said with a weak voice.

"We will keep you updated... Again, I'm sorry to bring such terrible news."

Emil hanged up. For a little while, he sat in silence, not sure what to do or think. He sat still in his chair, just trying to grasp what had happened. Then, he decided to dial his mother, and try to bring the news to her. She would probably react even worse than he did.

* * *

 **15/6 1936**

 **Petrograd, Russian Republic.**

The sun was shining in the old imperial city of Petrograd. A light wind was the only chill factor, citizens were roaming the city. Dimitri was there on military leave, he studied the imperial architecture. It was sad that such things were now of the past. The only hope was the new president Dimitri Romanov.

Tensions were high, Mongolia and its leader, the mad Baron, was arming for war. Not with Russia, but every other landlocked Asian countries. Russia simply didn't have the military capabilities to intervene. In other words, the mad Baron had free hands to do whatever he pleased. That was only one of the problems; Japan had imperial ambitions in China and the pacific.

Russia was slowly healing itself, as Germany began to prosper, Russia followed suit. As the economy got better, so did the armed forces. Hopes were high, but the future is, and always will be, uncertain.

As Dimitri passed a newspaper stand, a headline caught his attention. " _The religious state of Mexico: Holy or Godless?"_ He payed a few rubles to buy the paper and quickly skimmed the article. It had been translated into Russian from English.

It showed the horrors of the New Mexico, alongside pictures that would otherwise be too brutal to show in a daily newspaper. It made Dimitri sick, and to top it all off, their leader thought he was chosen by God to lead them into a new age.

 _What is happening to this world?_ Dimitri thought as he threw the paper into a trashcan.

* * *

 **8/6 1936.**

 **Mexican country side.**

The drive had been silent. Neither of them had said a word since they left the city. Margarita drove, and Robert could only guess where she was going. Her uncle was dead, killed by a regime that didn't like people who didn't share their world-view. She had dropped her purse, giving away her identity and put her family in a, very real, danger.

As they drove towards the small town, they could see smoke on the horizon. As they came closer, they realized that it was the town on fire. Shock and uncertainty now filled the car; they drove into the ruins of the town. Whoever had set fire to the town, was now long gone. They knew who had done it alright.

They pulled up to her family's house. It too was on fire, but even more remarkable was the treatment of her family members. Her father hung on a makeshift cross, _sinner_ was carved into his chest with a knife. Her mother's body was completely mutilated; her brothers and sisters were all killed in a gruesome manner.

She stepped out of the car, and walked towards them. Robert quickly went out of the car and tried to stop her. It was of no use, she dropped to her knees on the front lawn. And she broke down, she cried, she cried for such a long time.

Robert felt guilt run through him as he watched her cry. Her family had been taken from her, killed and put on display for all to see. And it was his fault, in some way it was him. His actions led to their death. Was it worth it? Not in the moment. In the moment all he could see was her, on her knees with tears running down her cheeks.

Robert placed his hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry" He said.

"Don't touch me!" She almost screamed at him. She got up on her feet again. Robert took a step backward, unsure of what she was going to do.

"You did this! You killed my family!" She cried.

"No I didn't!" He fired back. He knew he had played some part in it, but blood wasn't really on his hands. "The Gold shirts did this. If a picture was all that was needed, it was only a matter of time before they did it anyway." Robert tried to reason. She wouldn't listen.

Instead of talking, she went to her car and sat behind the wheel. Robert didn't know what was going on until he heard the engine turning on. "WAIT!" He yelled as ran after the car. Luckily, she stopped and rolled down the window.

"What are you doing?" Robert asked as he regained his breath.

"Leaving this broken country, there is nothing left for me here." She replied with sadness in her voice.

"Do you plan on leaving me here?" Robert asked with shock.

"You want to cover the events down here? Fine, but I'm done! You hear me? I'm leaving." She answered.

"Don't do this to me, Margarita." Robert pleaded.

Then, there was silence; the only sound was the engine running. She was deep in thought, and Robert was nervous for the answer.

"Fine." She said. Robert quickly jumped in the car. They drove for a long time. There was no chatter between them. She was angry at him, and Robert could understand why. They drove for the US border; their only hope was that they wouldn't be stopped on the way. Lord knows what would happen to them in such case.

It was night time when they reached the border. They could see the lights of the checkpoint ahead. As they came closer, they saw that it was US border agents, and not Mexican ones. This was a life-saver.

They pulled up to the checkpoint. The guard ordered them to leave the car. "Passports, please" He demanded.

Robert handed over his; the guard quickly looked at it and was seemingly happy with what he saw. He gave it back. Robert had forgotten that Margarita didn't have a passport with her. It was either burned, or in gold shirt custody by now.

"No passport means no entry." The guard explained.

"Please! We are both hunted by the Mexican government. She is doomed if she stays here. Please! Let her through, let her seek Asylum!" Robert pleaded.

The guard looked at her, and then looked at Robert. He thought about it for a long time, Robert was unsure how long, but it felt like hours.

"Okay, you can pass." He finally said. Robert sighed in relief. They passed through the checkpoint. Margarita stopped the car at the nearest train station. "What are you doing?" Robert asked confused.

"This is where we part ways, Mr. Davis. I hope we don't see each other again." She replied as she opened the door for him. Robert was in shock over her words as he stepped out. He was speechless. She went back in her seat.

"Margarita!" Robert called out. She looked over at him. "I'm sorry" He said.

"Me too." She replied as she took off. Robert saw the taillights disappear over horizon.

 _I'm truly sorry..._


	7. Chapter 6: Peace for a week

**_September 2th, 1936_**

 **San Francisco.**

Robert was going to work. It was early in the morning. He was tired, and had almost been so nonstop since his trip to Mexico. The story had sold well, really well. Robert could have sworn he had seen dollar signs in the eyes of his boss. Robert signed as he passes a corner, Margarita had been on his mind ever since. He had failed her, in every way possible.

It seemed his trip to Mexico had caught the attention of the Mad Prophet himself. The man who claimed who spoke to God. Jose had asked president Hoover to hand over both Robert and Margarita, because of their ' _slander_ ' they had made against him. While Hoover wasn't a great president, he had at the very least refused to hand Robert over. Robert didn't know what came of Margarita or what happened to her. He hoped to God she was okay.

Robert finally arrived at his work place. He stepped through the door and went through the lobby into his office. He was taking off his jacket and hand when he noticed a strange envelope sitting on his desk. Curiously, he approached his desk and saw it had his name on it. He sat down and opened the envelope and pulled out several documents. The first was in Spanish, the second in... Well, he wasn't quite sure what language it was.

Then, at last, there was also an English version. When he began to read it, he was horrified at what was stated in the document. It was an agreement between Iron Guard Romania and Jose's Mexico regarding oil and the future friendship between the two nations. Romania was to ship Oil to Mexico in return for military support and money. The documents were signed by both Jose and Corneliu Zelea Codreanu.

Robert was taking back by this document; but the real question was how it had ended up in his hands? Robert stormed out of his office and straight down to the receptionist sitting at the desk in the lobby.

"Who dropped off this document?" Robert asked harshly. He needed answers. The female receptionist was taken back by his tone.

"A gentleman came earlier this morning and asked where your office was. He had a curious eastern European accent. I don't know who he was." She replied.

"Damn!" Robert cursed. Of course the man hadn't given any ID, why would he? How could Robert know if this true was genuine? But it seemed fitting; of course those two nations would find comfort in each other's arms, even if the leader of one of them believed he spoke to God.

Robert went back into his office and tried to decide what he would do next. What could happen next?

* * *

 **September 2th, 1936**

 **Trans-Siberian railway, on the border with Mongolia.**

Dimitri was riding on his horse along the railway. There had been a lot of stories coming from Mongolia. The Mad Baron, the former Russian service man who was now the leader, was not a man to be fucked with. The stories were horrifying, his regime was dark. But, he was a proven military man.

That had been showed with his conquest of some of the states in what was the former China. The man seemed unstoppable. Russia was not ready to take him on, but he wasn't ready for Russia as well. So, for now an awkward peace existed between the two states. Every once in a while, a few Russians would be butchered by his troops along the border. To Dimitri, this was unacceptable.

But... Orders were orders. Nothing he could do about it. Instead, he focused on the road ahead. The sun was high in the sky, the weather was nice. But, the thing that was off... Was the smell. It had haunted them for miles. They had gotten a report, something had happened and they needed to figure out what it was.

The horse seemed to sense whatever they were looking for before he did. "Woah... Easy Girl." He tried to calm it down as the horse got a little jumpy and unsettled at whatever it sensed. The smell became worse and they got closer, and they the squad saw it. Dimitri was the first to lay eyes on it. A huge pile of corpses, most of them seemed to be railway workers. Butchered... It was no surprise who was behind it.

A message in Russian was written on a sign. **STAY AWAY FROM OUR BORDER!** It seemed haunting. Most of the men were on the verge of throwing up. Dimitri dismounted his horse and took a closer look. He inspected the bodies. They were slain with swords, barbaric style. Dimitri grew angry, mostly at his own government for not doing anything.

They continued surveying the area. Looking for more clues that could pin the Mads Baron behind it. Besides the sign and the murder weapons, they found nothing.

"Alright, let's bury them." Dimitri ordered as he took a shovel from the back of the horse. His men followed suit and began digging holes. Dimitri's anger fueled the pace of digging. He hoped to get some revenge someday, but not today.

The weather was hot indeed.

* * *

 **September 4th, 1936**

 **Matla, German colony.**

The SMS Kronprinz Wilhelm had finally been allowed to sail again. This was their second trip. They were docked in the harbor of Malta. Everything seemed fine, to some degree. It was a hot day in Malta. His crew was hard at work cleaning the deck. He sat in his office, smoking a cigarette while keeping the phone in his other hand. He was speaking with his wife back home.

Becoming a father of two was hard when you had a job that required you to go on long journeys away from home. Not knowing if something happened, and not being able to do anything about it anyhow.

"It's everything alright back home?" He asked, eagerly awaiting a response as he took a drag from his cigarette.

"Everything it's just fine. There is no need for you to worry. Wilhelm sleeps like a rock and eats like a horse-" Emil chuckled at that comment. It was good to know his son was doing okay.

"Erika is fitting in well in school. She wakes up early and is already in her clothes and ready for school by the time I wake up." His wife replied. He smiled.

"That's good to know. She will be a very smart woman once she grows up by this rate." He chuckled.

Just as his wife was about to say something, an officer stormed into his office. "Captain! You need to come and hear this!" The officer proclaimed.

"I gotta go, I'll talk to you later." Emil said to his wife.

"Wait- What is going on?" She asked, but he didn't really hear it before he hung up.

"What's so important?" He asked as he stood up from his chair.

"You need to come and hear it for yourself." The officer pleaded.

Emil finally nodded and quickly went with the officer down to the radio room. Once again, a lot of the officers were standing in there, eagerly listening in to the radio. When Emil entered, the radio spoke up again.

"This is message from the admiralty: This morning, the leader of the socialist republic of Italy, Benito Mussolini delivered a speech, where he declared war on the republic of Italy. The admiralty commands all ships to be on high alert and stand by for further orders."

"God damn." Emil remarked as the message ended.

"What do we do, Captain?" An officer asked.

"What we are told to do. No more shore leave and remain ready for sail. If any further updates come through that radio, I want to know." Emil ordered. The officers nodded in understanding.

* * *

 **September 5th, 1936**

 **San Francisco.**

The past few days were filled with news. Robert's fingers simply couldn't type fast enough. The war between Mussolini and the republic of Italy was unexpected in every regard. The Austrians had been quiet on the matter. They had given support to the republic of Italy in the form of Volunteers and guns, but no official actions had been taken.

That was not what Robert was focused on however; he was more focused on Hoover's sudden decision to reason with Jose. Jose had pretty much steamrolled Central America, every nation down there was under his control. It was damn lucky that he didn't take the Panama Canal. Robert was getting more and more nervous as the days went by. Jose got more power and America was unwilling to do anything. When will the day come? When will they declare war?

 **September 12th, 1936**

 **Austin, Texas.**

Robert stepped off the train in Austin. This was the place. History was going to be made here, for better or worse. Robert was nervous; he needed to make sure Jose didn't spot him in crowd. Who knows what he would do? Robert wouldn't like to stick around and find out.

He watched as the plane landed, on board was Jose and his government. Looking way too smug for Robert's liking. Jose shook hands with Hoover as he arrived. Robert could make out a tattoo on Jose's forearm, it read: 'Soberbia'. The Spanish word for Pride. He managed to snap a photo of it.

Both Hoover and Jose got into some cars and drove down to the capitol building, where it would all happen.

 **September 15th, 1936**

 **Austin, Texas.**

Robert spent the days waiting for news. Not knowing was perhaps the worst thing. Every day he would pass by the building, hoping they were close to done. This was the day, the day they finally came to an agreement.

Robert spotted the two coming out on the balcony. Hoover was waving a document around with pride as he smiled. Jose once stood with a smug face beside him. Hoover went up to the microphone, and remarked with a proud voice.

"I and Jose have just come to an agreement. I believe it is peace for our time!" The crowd erupted into cheers. Everyone took Hoover's word for it. All expect Robert.

Well... Not everyone. Robert knew both Huey and Jack Reed wouldn't approve of this compromise one bit. No matter if it meant peace going forward. They had given Jose the entire land and things he had taken, under the promise he wouldn't do anything further.

What happens when a bank robber is given freedom and given back all he has robbed, and is only asked in return not to rob again? That's right, he's going to rob again. Sooner or later. That doesn't matter, it will happen.

What would happen now? Robert didn't know, but he would keep a close eye on both Hoover and Jose going forward. Snapping a photo of the two snaking hands, Robert somehow knew that this photo would be vital in the future.

* * *

 **September 23th, 1936**

 **Above the Mexican Gulf.**

George was flying over the Gulf. He was training with West Indies Federation's air force. It was a usual day on the Gulf. No storms in sight, so that was a plus. He quickly went through his settings on his fighter, making sure they were right.

"This Red Eagle, climbing to 10.000 feet. Over." George remarked into his radio. As he began to gain altitude.

"This is Eagle Mother. Roger that. Over." The voice through the radio replied. George smiled to himself. This was the life. Flying was the only other thing he was ever good at, other than fighting that is. There weren't many clouds, so everything was clear. Then as George neared Cuba, he saw something strange.

"This is red eagle. Are we having naval support out today?" He asked as he watched fleet sailing below.

"This is Eagle Mother. Negative, what do you see? Over." The voice on the radio asked back.

"This is Red Eagle. I see at least a dozen cruisers and I would guess close to 50 support vessels. Over." George was getting nervous at the sight. But he tried to remain calm.

"This is Eagle Mother. I will ask the naval commander if he knows anything. Keep an eye on the fleet. Over." The voice replied as the radio turned to silence.

"Understood. Over." George said as he put down the microphone and followed the fleet at a safe distance.

Some 15 minutes later, the radio turned on again. "This is Eagle Mother. Neither our fleet or the Yankee fleet is out right now. Can you spot any signs as to what country they belong to? Over." The voice asked.

George attempted to fly lower to spot any signs. Then, he saw it. "This is red eagle. They are Mexican, over."

"Are you certain Red Eagle? Over" the voice asked.

"I'm positive. Over." George replied.

"Okay, tail them for a bit. See if they are headed for Cuba. Over."

"Understood. Over."

George followed the fleet, and hoped they wouldn't try anything stupid, like shooting him down. That would ruin his day for sure. Hadn't the Mexicans just signed an agreement not to attack another nation? George wasn't sure, and to be honest, he didn't really care all that much.

* * *

 **September 25th, 1936**

 **San Francisco.**

A week. A damn week. It was almost laughable. It took only a week before Jose broke the agreement. An idea popped into Robert's head. It was the perfect headline: " _Peace for a week_." Robert would have smirked, if it wasn't for all the people who would be killed in this dumb war. Hoover wouldn't do anything, he didn't have the guts.

Robert sat down and wrote, what was probably the biggest article he would ever write. His hands moved across the typewriter like a piano. He was going to make a fool of Hoover, show everyone just what a massive idiot he was. Not for money, not for fame, but for a righteous cause. This would hurt Hoover, and would boost Huey or Reed in the election.

Robert's thoughts were with Margarita. She must have been even more pissed with the events. Hoover had screwed up, big time. That speech of his, what was it called? 'Peace for our time?'. He really shot himself in the foot there. Robert turned on the radio as he wrote. Huey was on the air, tearing Hoover a new one.

"Wow, Herbert, that little agreement you made with Mexico was so effective that they only waited a WEEK before they decided to break it. Good job!"

"Are you proud of yourself Herbert? You should be. You managed to postpone Jose's plans by a week!""

Robert couldn't help but chuckle at Huey's rant with the very sarcastic tone he held. It made the writing easier. Robert's boss wasn't always happy with Robert's support for Huey, but he was never one to not print a good story.

Hoover wasn't seen for quite some time.


	8. Chapter 7: Big things

**_4/11 1936_**

 **Headquarters of San Francisco weekly.**

Robert was sitting in his office, smoking a cigarette and putting in the final touches on the entire summary of the election and the new president elect. He smiled to himself as he read through it. If one had told him just a year ago, that Huey Long would be president, he would have called them insane. Now, reality had struck him.

Robert took a sip of his coffee. He had been up since getting the news over the radio that Huey had won. _The story doesn't write itself_ as Kenneth had put it. So here he was, writing.

His desktop clock showed the time: 10:23 am. He sighed and yawned. He felt tired, and his fingers felt numb from typing on the typewriter. He finally finished the story, the ping of the typewriter was like a full stop for him, and now, he wanted to get some sleep. He needed it now, in fact.

The reaction to Huey's win was mixed in California, most people didn't like him, but they didn't really like Hoover's administration either. There was no large cheering. There were no on-going parties. In fact, things seemed more quiet than usual.

Robert unlocked his door when he finally reached home. He noticed all the letters gathered at the base of the door. He squatted down and took a closer look at them. One of them caught his eye, and he picked it out to take a closer look. He walked through his apartment and into the living room. He sat himself down in the couch and began to open the letter.

It had a unique seal. Robert could have sworn he had seen it somewhere before. He battled a bit with getting it open and at last resorted to using a letter opener. He pried the letter open and took out the piece of paper inside. He read it carefully, making sure to get every single detail within it.

It was an invitation, sent from the kingfish himself, to his inauguration party in a few months when he would be swored in as president. It detailed a lot of things. To be honest, Robert was more honored than anything. To be given such a privilege was not a trivial matter for him. He quickly found some paper and began to form a response on his typewriter.

To be honest, Robert was surprised it had come so quickly to his doorstep. Huey must have made them in preparation of his victory. Of course he was the type to be overly confident in winning something. He was the only person who would write invitations pre-winning something.

* * *

 **6/11 1936**

 **Madrid, Spain.**

Large crowds were gathered in the streets of what used to be the capital of one of the greatest empires in history. People calling for the king's head while also cheering for their new government. Pierre could see them out the window of the large palace where the king used to stay. All the syndicalist leaders central to the movement against the king where gathered in that room. All tuned in to the radio, eagerly awaiting some confirmation that they had indeed won the civil war.

It had been a short war, but a bloody one at that. They had marched through Madrid 4 days earlier. The king had already abandoned his stronghold. Pierre had played a huge role in helping the Spanish syndicalists to power. He had already received congratulations from the military back home.

The carlists had already packed their backs and gone into exile in National France. Pierre figured that traitors always held together in that way. No matter, if they wanted to live in Africa, let them. No, they were interested in what the king had to do. Well, technically the king was unable to do anything. Considering his stroke in the beginning of the war. General Franco and the king's son ran the show.

"Fellow citizens! I bring joyful news!" The radio came to life. Everyone in the room turned their attention to it. Listing closely to the words it had to say.

"The king and his cabinet have chosen to leave Spain! Rumors say they have settled in Germany! The King has officially given up! Now the people of Spain can choose their own future!" The radio spoke. Everyone cheered. The cheering in the streets grew even louder.

This also meant that Pierre's job was done here. Now the rebuilding would fall to the leaders of this new nation that had risen from the ashes. Perhaps... Perhaps he could finally get some time with his family. However, he knew his superiors too well.

At any rate. Spain was secured. It was a victory for all socialist countries. Of course, there was a lot to be done. But, they would stand together. Italy had recently been (or at least the northern part) captured by Mussolini and his branch of socialism. Italy had always been a vital ally for France, but Pierre had to be honest: He didn't really like that Mussolini. He had never met him, but from what he read about him, he seemed strange.

* * *

 **12/11 1936**

 **Kiel, German Kaiserreich.**

A scarred man walked down the stairs from a ship. Shaking a bit as he touched the ground. His mind calming down as he realized he was back in Kiel. He breathed. Memories of his time as a P.O.W still fresh in his mind.

In front of him, was his brother. The great captain Emil Danziger. Emil ran to his brother to hug him, one Jakob eagerly returned. Jakob broke down crying, his gray uniform had seen better days. In his pocket was the only letter he had gotten while captured. Telling him of his mother's demise. He regretted everything, and realized he should have listened to his brother. He went to fight for a lost cause, and now he was back.

"Brother! It's so good to see you again!" Emil almost cried in joy as he hugged his brother.

"Hello Brother." Jakob replied in a rather quiet voice as he hung his head low.

"Come on, let's get back to my place. My wife baked some cookies." Emil suggested.

"Okay." Once again, a quiet voice.

It didn't take long for them to get home, and Emil's promise had been true, he wife had indeed baked some cookies. Erika also gave her uncle a hug, and the all took a seat at the table. Emil could see that Jakob's time in that camp had done things to him. He hardly ate anything, he only sipped the coffee he was served. He had gotten skinny as well, and his beard was untrimmed, he looked like he hadn't had a shower in days.

"Are you alright brother?" Emil asked concerned at his brother's condition.

"I am-... I am fine." He said hesitantly. Emil had seen too many men broken to know that wasn't true.

"Monika, can you take Erika into the other room?" Emil asked. His wife nodded, understanding what was going on.

"Jakob, I know it mustn't have been easy to be imprisoned for close to 7 months. But you're free now." Emil tried to reassure his brother, but Jakob pulled away.

"You don't understand. They did _things!_ Horrible things! I couldn't stand it, I CAN'T stand it!" Jakob broke down.

"We're here for you. Don't ever forget that. We'll get you help." Emil once again trying to comfort his brother in his time of need. Some part of Emil knew that he had brought it on himself, Emil had warned him after all. But... He was his brother, how could he ever give up on him?

"I want to... I want to see mother." Jakob requested. He knew she was dead, but wanted to see her gravestone.

"We'll go see her." Emil promised and stood up from his seat and took his coat on. He called out to his wife that they were going to the graveyard. They walked through the busy streets of Kiel, it didn't take long before they arrived at the site. Seeing two tombstones sitting side by side. One holding the name of their father, the other of their mother. The sight became too much for poor Jakob. Knowing his wasn't there when his own mother died.

"I'm so sorry mom!" He sobbed as he kneeled down in front of the grave. Emil held a hand on Jakob's shoulder while he cried out into the empty graveyard.

"There was nothing you could have done." Emil reassured him, but he knew that answer wasn't good enough for Jakob. They stayed there for some time, Jakob taking out his depression in his sobs, while Emil stood by him. To be honest, Emil felt guilt. That was the number one thing. Guilt for not doing more to stop his brother.

Only time would tell if things would look up for them, or not.

* * *

 **20/11 1936**

 **Vancouver, Canada.**

George sat with his fellow pilots inside a pub in downtown Vancouver. They were enjoying a beer and mostly just relaxing as they had just gotten off duty. The pilots spoke and laughed as they always did when getting beers before heading home to their wife and kids. George didn't have the luxury, not that he needed it either. He mostly did this sort of stuff to _socialize_ as it was called. He could care less about the stories they had to share.

Of course the discussion they had turned political. Everyone and their mother had an opinion on what was going on in America. Huey as the new president didn't concern George, American politics never had. Still, it was hot stuff around everyone. He could escape it, not at work, nor at the pubs.

"What do you think, George?" A fellow pilot asked with a smile as he slapped him on the back. George had already tuned out whatever conversation they were having.

"What?" George asked right back with a very disinterested voice.

"Do you think it will come down to a civil war in America?" The pilot asked. George groaned at the question, of course it had to be about politics.

"Don't know, don't care." He replied coldly as he took another sip of his beer.

"How can you not care?" The pilot laughed, unable to understand.

"I care only for the realm. As long as the Americans keep their disorder to themselves, I can care less." George replied.

"Suit yourself." The pilot replied as he went back to drink his beer.

Truth be told, George did think it might end up in a civil war. From what he had read, the population was more divided that ever, and tension was rising with each passing day. Huey represented a rather small part of the ideologies in the USA. Whatever would happen within the next few years remained to be seen. But George hoped it wouldn't have to involve him or his country in any way.

* * *

 **25/11 1936**

 **Central Siberia, Russia.**

A long ride as always. Traveling by horseback might seem primitive by most people nowadays. The Train and now the automobile were changing the scenery in the cities fast, now more than ever. Still, Hussars were respected, and a noteworthy part of the military. Their uniforms were the same as they had been under Tsarist rule, and Dimitri was quite glad for this. His family had always spoken fondly of the old days.

 _Back when there was order!_ Was usually the phrase used, and Russia could use a bit of order now. Still, people were as divided as ever. The military was only a hair length away from taking power themselves, the filthy reds were lurking in the shadows, perhaps waiting to make their move. Dimitri Romanov had brought some stability to Russia, and it reinforced Dimitri's own beliefs regarding that the monarchy was needed.

Russia was bullied; no word could better describe it. Everyone thought the country was a pushover, ever since the defeat in the Great War. Dimitri hoped for change, and he hoped it would come soon. That's why he was delighted to hear of their move to Kazakhstan border, he hoped it would mean something in due time. It probably would. It was a puppet of Russia, but only barely, and dare he say, willingly.

Interesting times they lived in. The news of a new president had even reached the shores of Russia. Dimitri didn't have much of an opinion on the matter, only that he hoped it wouldn't affect the countries around it too much. The Americans choose their own path, not like he could change that. Still, he rode on. These thoughts were usually what kept him occupied on these long trips.

Japan seemed to be getting more and more high and mighty in Asia. Their warships often sailed too close for comfort to the Russian ships. Their activities in Korea and a bit of China was worrying for Russian interest in the region. If war was to break out again, Russia would be defeated even quicker than last time. They needed to stay patient, way for an opening where they could gain power.

A simple hussar shouldn't be thinking such high ranking thoughts. He was a soldier, he did as told. He only hoped the people in power had common sense.


End file.
